Quotes About Expression

He talked and talked, his words fell through him, trying to find the floor of his sadness.

I have an aristocratic smile and like to punch people.

You used to write such honest books. Honest and emotionally ambitious. Maybe they weren't finding millions of readers. Maybe they weren't making you rich. But they were making the world rich

It was not the Jew, of course, who invented the love poem, but the other way around.

I ripped the page from my book - I don't speak, I'm sorry. - and used it to dry her cheeks, my explanation and apology ran down her face like mascara.

I'd write Ha ha ha! and instead of singing in the shower I would write out the lyrics of my favorite songs, the ink would turn the water blue or red or green, and the music would run down my legs (..)

What about the teakettle? What if the spout opened and closed when the steam came out, so it would become a mouth, and it could whistle pretty melodies, or do Shakespeare, or just crack up with me.

Another reason it would be a good invention is that there are so many times when you know you're feeling a lot of something, but you don't know what the something is. Am I frustrated? Am I actually just panicky? And that confusion changes your mood, it becomes your mood, and you become a confused, gray person

And instead of singing in the shower I would write out the lyrics of my favorite songs, the ink would turn the water blue or red or green, and the music would run down my legs.

And I love the idea of books being more than books, or being, rather, something other than books. I think the ideal experience of my book would be like listening to music.

I said, not knowing what the next words out of my mouth would be, but wanting them to be mine, wanting, more than I'd ever wanted anything, to express the center of me to and be understood.

The more you love someone, he came to think, the harder it is to tell them.

And how can you say I love you to someone you love? I rolled onto my side and fell asleep next to her. Here is the point of everything I have been trying to tell you, Oskar. It's always necessary. I love you, Grandma.

That ghost of a smile fell away and receded and finally faded.

Could we kiss for a little bit? ... Humans are the only animal that blushes, laughs, has religion, wages war, and kisses with kips. So in a way, the more you kiss with lips, the more human you are.

will describe my eyes and then begin the story. My eyes are blue and resplendent. Now I will begin the story.

My father's face, when he said that, dissolved into a stillness, a sad expression, sadder than human feeling.

I think that this is why I relish writing for you so much. It makes it possible for me to be not like I am, but as I desire for Little Igor to see me. I can be funny, because I have time to meditate about how to be funny, and I can repair my mistakes when I perform mistakes, and I can be a melancholy person in manners that are interesting, not only melancholy. With writing, we have second chances.

Your books are arranged by the color of their spines, she said. How stupid.

how can you say I love you to someone you love?

Mencils?" "Pencils for men.

I don't speak," he wrote, "I'm sorry.

it broke my heart into more pieces than my heart was made of, why can't people say what they mean at the time?

I really have a piece-of-shit car. Is it brown? No, it's an expression. How can a car be an expression?